


need an assist

by rexcorvidae



Category: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexcorvidae/pseuds/rexcorvidae
Summary: Homecoming night was rough. Like, really rough. Turns out that lifting a building and crashing a plane and fighting a guy with a crazy wingsuit fuckinghurt.Peter could use some help(Matt is pretty sure this is divine retribution for giving Foggy high blood pressure.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this has been hanging around in my WIPS for a while now, and i decided i really liked it, so here we are. will post a second chapter at Some Point soonish
> 
> wanna clarify that i don't have anything against tony stark, and i actually really like his relationship with peter! but homecoming was Not his finest moment re: mentoring and matt is going to have some Takes about that

Peter Parker was totally, 100%, _not_ freaking out.

He was totally fine, actually, because he was a _super-hero_ , and super-heroes got hurt all the time. And if he _was_ freaking out, (he wasn’t), he would be embarrassed about it, for acting like a _baby_ , because seriously, Parker, get it together. It wasn’t like he’d never been roughed up on patrol before.

It was just-

There was a lot of blood.

Even with the big metal spikes in his leg and stomach still in place (he wasn’t an _idiot_ ), there was a lot of blood, oozing around them and flowing more freely out of the places where the other pieces had come out.

(When he had lifted a building off himself. And crashed a plane

Because those were just, things he had done now?

That was fine. Cool. Totally cool.)

His google searches about “treating blood loss at home” had been woefully inadequate, and really, what part of “at home” did these people not fucking understand? And he wasn’t scared. Really. He wasn’t.

It was just that he had collapsed in this fucking _alleyway_ and there was _so much blood_ , and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, and all he wanted was an adult but he’d _screwed that up_ because he was an _idiot_ and the thought of having to listen to Happy’s voicemail again made him want to _cry_ and now May was going to get a call about how he’d _died_ , bled out in an alleyway just like Ben, oh god-

Woah there. Nope. Nope, nope, no. Slow down, buckaroo. We are _not_ freaking out. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

If he could take down a plane, _lift a building (!!!),_ he could figure out how not to die.

( _“Uh, Mr. Daredevil, sir, not that I don’t appreciate the help tonight – seriously, those guys would have kicked my ass if you hadn’t been there – but, uh, what is this?” Peter stared down at the scrap of paper dubiously, a hastily scribbled phone number staring back up at him._

_“My burner.” Daredevil responded. “If I can’t keep you from doing this- “_

_“You can’t.” Peter chirped._

_Daredevil sighed heavily. “If I can’t, then the least I can do is make sure you’re doing it safely.”_

_Peter was reminded of the debate he’d had to do in English over abstinence vs. comprehensive sex education, but wisely kept the comparison to himself._

_“Meet me here on Saturday at 8.” Daredevil continued._

_“Uh, okay? For what? Do we have more of those dealers to take down?”_

_“No,” he replied, a smirk barely visible in the dim light, “You have training.”_

_“Training?” Peter repeated helplessly._

_“Yes. Training on how not to die. Lesson number one? Call for backup when you need it.”)_

Maybe they should have had a lesson on first aid. But Daredevil had a doctor-nurse-person who patched him up, and she would be infinitely more useful than Google.

(And maybe it would make Peter feel a little better to hear Double-D’s voice, smooth and confident and _adult_ , because he hadn’t felt so young in a long time.)

Double-D answered after a few rings, sounding _exhausted_ , and Peter instantly felt guilty, because the guy had a _job_ , Peter was fairly sure. “Spiderman?”

“Uh, h-hey Double-D,” The shaking in his voice took him by surprise, and he tried vainly to keep it even. “I, uh, need some medical advice? If you could maybe text your doctor-nurse-person?”

Over the line, Peter thought he heard the sound of fabric shifting and someone moving around a room. “What’s wrong? How hurt are you?”

“Uh…”

Here was the thing. The metaphorical rub. Peter knew the answers, logically, were _I have several big sharp pieces of metal stuck in me_ and _very_ , respectively. But it was taking a _lot_ of self-control to keep the urge to start crying at bay, and he was cold and tired in a way that he _knew_ wasn’t good, and if he had to use the words “stabbed”, “skewered”, or any variation thereof in relation to himself then that self-control would shatter.

“Spiderman!” Daredevil’s shouting broke through his thoughts. Oh. He supposed he _had_ just been sitting silently for a while. Probably not the most comforting thing, given the circumstances.

“Peter.”

“What?” the older man demanded, “Is someone there with you?”

“M’ name’s Peter. Lost the mask in the fight, anyway, so.”

“Okay,” he breathed, “Peter. I need you to call Stark, okay? He can help you.”

Peter tried not to wince at the mention of Mr. Stark. “Can’t. I screwed up. ‘S not helping me anymore.”

He could faintly hear a string of words Aunt May would _not_ approve of muttered away from the receiver.

“Okay. Can you tell me where you are?”

He scrunched his eyes shut and tried to focus.

“Uh, near Coney Island? There’s a… a…” He trailed off, his train of thought dissipating like mist. He was so tired.

“Peter!”

Right. Not dying. “S’rry” He slurred. “Hard to focus.” He forced his eyes open and rattled off the name of a nearby store to Daredevil, who sighed in relief.

“I’m not too far. Just hang on for me, alright? Stay on the line.”

“Mhmm,” Peter hummed. He was still cold, but he wasn’t as scared anymore, which was nice. He felt floaty.

“Hablar,” Daredevil barked, “Preterite tense, 2nd person plural.”

“Wha’?”

“Conjugations. We went over them on Saturday, remember?”

Oh, yeah. Because a long with teaching him to throw a punch ( _blindfolded,_ which was hard and kind of embarrassing when he missed [a lot] but also _so cool_ ), Daredevil knew Spanish, apparently? And had been _livid_ when Peter admitted he was distracted because he was worried he would fail his upcoming test.

( _“Like hell you are_ ,” _he growled. “Do you have a review sheet?”_

_“Yes?” Peter squeaked helplessly_

_“Good. Let’s get to work.”_ )

“ _Peter!_ ” Daredevil snapped.

“Right. Hablar. Preterite, 2nd plural. Um, hablasteis?”

“Good. Indicative, imperfect, 3rd singular.”

It went on like this for a few minutes, with Peter conjugating with varying degrees of success, but _awake_ , which he supposed was the important thing.

“I’m here.” Daredevil said, and suddenly there was someone standing over him, and he… looked like a guy?

No mask, no clubs or suit, just a youngish guy with fluffy brown hair and… sunglasses? At night? Weird, but Peter wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“You, uh, know you aren’t in the suit, right?” Peter wondered if he should have averted his eyes.

Daredevil gave a warm chuckle. “Well, you said you didn’t have your mask, so I figured we ought to be on equal footing. I’m Matt.”

Daredevil ( _Matt_ , Peter repeated to himself, still a little shocked.) knelt down beside him, and ran a careful hand over his stomach, finding his injuries easily and wincing apologetically when Peter flinched from the touch.

“Sorry kid,” He muttered, “Jesus, what happened to you?”

“Building.” He answered hoarsely. “And, uh. A plane.”

“Fuck,” Matt breathed, “Alright, Peter, my friend is on her way to get you patched up, but I’m gonna start working on you while we wait.”

Peter nodded wordlessly. He knew it was important that he stayed awake. Blood loss and concussions, he knew, but he was so _tired_. He’d never felt this tired, not since Ben died and he felt like his bones had been filled with lead. He didn’t feel heavy now, though. He felt light – soft. He wasn’t really hurting anymore, and why had he called Double D in the first place? It didn’t hurt anymore. He was fine. He just-

He just needed some sleep.

Someone was yelling at him, he thought, but it was hard to tell. Hard to tell, but easy to ignore, because he’d slept through louder and the fuzzy-soft-floating feeling was pulling him farther and farther away.

_“Spidey? You with me kid? Spiderman! Peter!”_

Why were they yelling? He took down the plane. He stopped Toomes. He _saved_ Toomes.

He’d done good. Hadn’t he earned a break?

Peter let out a sigh and felt his eyes flutter closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s stomach dropped.
> 
> It could be nothing.
> 
> Peter was fifteen. He might have just decided to go get shitfaced with his nerd friends to celebrate his victory – Tony had certainly done worse at his age, and for less. Maybe he was with his friend Ned and the kid was just covering for him.
> 
> Still, though.
> 
> There had been blood at the scene. Not a lot – not enough to be worrying, but the kid clearly hadn’t stuck around, and if he’d been hurt, or he’d gotten stuck somewhere...
> 
> He would have called Happy, though, if that was the case. Surely, he would have called Happy if he’d gotten badly hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back lads! since ppl have been asking: i don't really have a solid update schedule at the moment! if that changes i'll let yall know. however, i won't just abandon this story w/o warning, and if you get impatient for an update shoot me an ask at rexcorvidae on tumblr! i'm always down to share scraps/ideas/etc i have for projects i'm working on.
> 
> anyway, short chap this time, but we're gonna check in w/ matt and peter next chapter. i was just really feeling a tony pov for this one so here we are!

Tony Stark wasn’t an idiot.

He knew he’d handled the Spiderman situation… poorly.

Knew, in retrospect, that the radio-silence-except-for-when-you-fuck-up approach was not helpful, was actually some bonafide Howard Stark material, but he’d just-

It seemed easier. Safer. Because he fucked things up, fucked _people_ up, as was more than evident after Germany, after Siberia, and Spidey… _Peter_ had a chance to be good.

To be better than him.

So he gave him the suit and kept his distance. Listened to rambling voicemails the kid left Happy about saving cats from trees and stopping purse snatchers and felt like he was contributing to something _good_.

Except then, the kid started dipping into some darker territory. Gangs, and weapons deals, and Tony _saw_ what that gun did to the bodega. Advanced healing or no, kid wouldn’t stand a fucking chance, and he was _not_ going bringing him home to his aunt in a body bag.

So he told him to leave it alone, promised he'd handle it, and trusted that it would be enough.

That had been a miscalculation.

Because if he’d _known_ the kid at all, if he’d ever bothered to spend any time with him, he’d have known that “I’ll deal with it” wasn’t enough. Would have known that standing by and just _hoping_ Tony came through went against every instinct Peter had.

_When you can do what I do, and the bad things happen – they happen because of you._

And then the ferry happened, and he’d watched the kid nearly get ripped in half by that fucking boat, nearly get all those civilians _killed_ , because he didn’t know what he was fucking doing, and Tony just…

He’d fucked up. He’d snapped.

Because he just kept imagining the kid’s mangled body if he hadn’t gotten there, imagining the people that would’ve been killed because _Tony_ didn’t take the time to train the goddamn vigilante he’d unleashed upon the world.

He took the suit, and told himself that would be it, that Spidey’s career would be done. Told himself he believed it, too, even though the Peter had been doing the Spiderman thing for 6 months before Tony came along. Tried to put the matter out of his mind.

So, all in all, he could understand why the kid wasn’t taking Happy’s calls.

And honestly, after everything that had happened, Tony would have been totally willing to give the kid a little space. They still needed to talk, certainly, but he’d fucked up, and Parker _was_ a teenager after all, so he could allow a little bit of the silent treatment.

Except, the afternoon after Coney Island, FRIDAY paused his music to inform him that May Parker was in his lobby, and she wasn’t happy.

She wasn’t any happier when he had her brought up to his office, jaw set and posture coiled. Honestly, he assumed she’d found out about Spiderman. Found the kid sticking to the wall or something and had come to tear him a new one.

But if anyone had a right to, it was her, so he let her in with a smile. “What can I do for you, Ms. Parker?”

She met his eyes coolly. “I know you fired Peter.” He bit back a wince. It wasn’t _inaccurate_ , but it made something in his stomach twist guiltily to hear it put so bluntly. “I’m not here to ask for his job back or anything – frankly, I think it’s your loss. I just-“

She paused and pursed her lips. “Peter was supposed to go out to a dance last night, but he didn’t come home. And I thought maybe he just spent the night somewhere and forgot to tell me, but the school called this morning to tell me he’d missed first period. He isn’t answering his phone either. I went to the police, but they said they couldn’t’ do anything until he’d been gone for 48 hours, but this isn’t _like_ him. He’s forgetful, sometimes, but he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t just _disappear_ on me like that.  Not after-“ She cut herself off and shook her head, swallowing hard.

“Anyway, I, uh, I asked his friend Ned, and he mentioned this internship, and I know it’s a long shot but I just- I thought you might know something.”

Tony’s stomach dropped.

It could be nothing.

Peter was fifteen. He might have just decided to go get shitfaced with his nerd friends to celebrate his victory – Tony had certainly done worse at his age, and for less. Maybe he was with his friend Ned and the kid was just covering for him.

Still, though.

There had been blood at the scene. Not a lot – not enough to be worrying, but the kid clearly hadn’t stuck around, and if he’d been hurt, or he’d gotten stuck somewhere...

He would have called Happy, though, if that was the case. Surely, he would have called Happy if he’d gotten badly hurt.

But a seed of anxiety had been planted, and Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to relax until the kid was safe in his apartment.

“No,” He responded, keeping his tone even and collected, even as he started to strategize the best way to track the kid down, “No, I haven’t heard from him since- But I can-“ _track his location_  was what he _almost_ said, but something told him May Parker might not appreciate knowing that was something he could just _do_ , so he settled with. “Call him, and tell him to touch base with you.”

She glanced down at her phone, face creased with worry, before nodding. “Yeah, if you could, that would be great. I have to get to work, but-“

“Of course,” Tony nodded, “If I get a hold of him I’ll let you know.” And then, on an impulse, “And about the internship-“

“Don’t,” May interrupted, “I already told you, I’m not here about that. Peter is a brilliant, compassionate kid. He’s gonna change the world one day. If you couldn’t see that, it’s on you.”

Tony was taken aback, feeling chastised. “I know that,” He said softly, “He- there was a. A misunderstanding. That led to Peter losing the internship. But it’s been resolved, and with your permission, I’d like to take him back on.”

May’s jaw hardened, and she looked at him fiercely for a moment, like she wanted to argue, before sighing. “I… I don’t know. Maybe. When… when Peter gets home, I’ll talk to him about it.”

Well.

That honestly wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but given everything that had happened, he probably deserved a little skepticism.

“Alright,” She sighed, “Well, I have to catch my train, so-“

Tony nodded, “If I get a hold of him, I’ll call you.”

“Thank you, Stark.” She turned to leave, but paused in the doorway, and turned around. “Seriously. I appreciate it.”

The sincerity in her tone made him want to cover his face, or leave the room, and he found himself giving her a big, paparazzi smile, more out of muscle memory than anything else. “Of course, Ms. Parker. Anything for you.”

She scoffed at him and left, and he let his shoulders drop as he sat down at his computer.

He had a spider to track down.


End file.
